Things I Can't Bear
by CheshireEffect
Summary: 'On the outside, I'm expressionless, but on the inside, I'm dying; this is killing me. I have no desire for this. Matt's already gone through so much for me. Just a little more. It's almost over.' Co-Authored with ginniirox. MxM Rated: M
1. Matt

**A co-authored fic with MyMello's Matty! He's awesome, believe it.**

**Things I Can't Bear**

…

I look down at the forming bruise on my side as water cascades down my skin. Reaching out I brush my fingers over the purpling skin and wince, biting my lip. This one was from the coffee table in the living room.

Each bruise has a story behind it.

The one on my forearm is from the time Mells stepped on my arm during a fight. That was the only time I'd ever truly feared for my life. Sure, I had been aware the numerous times that Mello could and would have killed me, but I had never feared it.

How can you fear death if it is given to you by the person you love most?

I love Mello more than anything. That's why I'd die if he left me. Even after all the things he's put me through; I'll stay by him until the end. Because Mello is my End. He's my death sentence, my final destination, my Game Over. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Shutting off the shower and getting dressed, I turn off the lights and leave the bathroom. Mello's still asleep on the bed, his golden hair splayed out on the pillow in a halo of gold.

He's a grim reaper disguised as an angel. My own deadly seraph.

Closing the bedroom door behind myself, I leave the apartment and lean beside the door. Mello hates it when I smoke so I have to go outside.

Even with my long-sleeves, my teeth still chatter in the cold air. I hate winter.

Tucking one of my hands under my armpit to keep it warm, I hold my cigarette with the other and inhale. Nicotine floods my lungs and I hold in the smoke for a moment before letting it out in a stream. Ash falls to the ground and white-gray smoke curls up over my head.

I probably look like a punk, hunched over a cigarette in all black and white. Even my jeans have been replaced by black cargo pants since they allowed more pocket room.

Flicking my finished cigarette away, I watched as it landed in the little stone enclosed garden in the middle of the center courtyard. Hopefully all the dead plants didn't catch fire.

When I get back inside Mello is walking toward the kitchen, shirtless and yawning. He stops in the doorway and reaches his hands up in the air while standing on the balls of his feet. After a moment he drops back down with a sigh as his back pops.

I follow him silently and lean against the counter as he turns on the coffee pot, gets a glass of chocolate milk, and heats up a piece of the chocolate cake I had made him for his birthday two days ago.

"Why are you watching me?" Mello asks, not turning to look at me.

"I don't know. I thought you might need me for something," I reply and he turns his back to the counter to regard me with icy blue eyes.

"Not right now, go play a game or something."

And, like always, I do what he says. Hours later. I'm still sprawled across the sofa, shooting other gamers with a fn-fal assault rifle. I've only died about ten times so far in all the time I've been playing so it's starting to get pretty boring. Pausing the game, I wander to the kitchen to grab a soda and make a sandwich.

Mello's at the table with another cup of coffee and his laptop. He looks up at me for a moment before turning back to the computer.

Things haven't always been this silent between us. Something's changed in the last week. Mello's busier than before and keeps his distance from me more. It's like he's afraid to be near me, but that's ridiculous. Mello's _never_ afraid.

Leaning down as I pass him, I go for a quick kiss, only to be denied when he dodges it and shoots me a glare. I don't mind though because in the quick glance I got of his laptop's screen, I'd seen all I needed.

Instead of eating at the table with him, I go to the room and turn on my own laptop. Leaning against the headboard with the computer in my lap, I eat as it starts up.

Mello had been looking at something I've only heard about briefly, but even now I still remember it clearly. It's a weapon that the government is working on called _Fall-Out_.

It's a computer chip that has the potential to take down a super computer in 24 hours. Apparently, the government is preparing itself against a techno-terrorist attempt. Needless to say, it's a big deal to anyone that has any form of ambition; perfect for Mello.

…

Getting into the government database and accessing their files is easier than it should be, but it still takes me a good couple of hours. Mello must have been working on it most of the morning or even last night after I'd went to sleep. (It would explain him sleeping in.) He's a good hacker but not quite up to my standards.

Skimming through the files, I read about anything concerning Fall-Out but only come across little snippets of information about it like '_team has moved to new testing facility'_ and '_testing material becoming scarce'_. Small things that when pieced together actually turn into legitimate information.

I leave the system, when I hear the kitchen chair scrape the tile and wipe my history before going to my e-mail. Mello walks into the room and moves the laptop. Taking me by the wrist, he pushes me flat against the bed and kisses me hungrily. His grip tightens and I wince but don't complain. It's been a long time since he's kissed me, so I wasn't about to ruin it.

Feeling his tongue on my lips I part them and give him access, which he takes, exploring every corner of my mouth eagerly. I let out a moan and he seems to snap out of it, standing up straight, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at me.

…

Mello stormed out of the apartment after the kiss, leaving me alone on the bed. I fix my goggles and scoot down farther along the bed so I can curl on my side, laptop once again in possession.

I would go and look through Mello's laptop to see what was up with him but he's taken to hiding it when he's not using it.

It's rather indefinite, but I'm dying inside. Slowly. My will is fading away to merge with Mello's, to be taken over by Mello's.

I've done so many things for him and never ask for anything in return. I know he won't give anything. It's not in him to but it still hurts.

Turning on my playlist I drift off to sleep as the shadows lengthen in the room.

Mello returns around twelve and shakes me awake. His eyes are excited yet guarded, like a child with a secret.

"I need you to do something for me Matty." He whispers against my lips and I instantly know that I won't like it.

Getting up, I pull my goggles down to rub my eyes before replacing them. Mello pulls out an outfit from the closet and tosses it onto the bed.

"Get dressed and meet me at Pulse when you're ready." He said before leaving the apartment. I look over at the clothes before stripping and putting them on.

On went a pair of leather short-shorts along with a tight black crop top that showed off my stomach and shoulders. It didn't have any sleeves and was held up by ties around the nape of my neck. After that was a garter belt that attached to thigh-high leather boots. Borrowing one of Mello's black faux-furred leather jackets, I made sure it covered my exposed thighs before going to the bathroom.

Pulling off my goggles, I put in the contacts on the counter after making sure they were moist enough. Dry contacts were bitches to get off and I didn't want to have to go to the hospital later to get them removed. The contacts turned my bark blue eyes a bright honey color that are sure to grab attention.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel sad. This wasn't me. I would do anything for Mello, but… this wasn't who I was. This was what I became for Mello. Because for once, he needed me.

…

When I get to the club, Mello's waiting outside by his bike. I park and get out, his eyes roaming over me hungrily.

"Perfect. There's someone I'm meeting. He has something I want and you have something he wants. Just keep him happy so I can complete the deal." He says and leads the way into the club.

It's hot despite the air conditioner being on full blast. Music is making the air thrum and the dance floor is a mesh of sweaty moving bodies. I follow closely behind Mello as he weaves expertly through the crowds and to a circular metal stairwell leading to the top floor balconies.

A thickly built man stops us and asks to see our weapons. Mello pulls his gun from the back of his pants, but I know there's a knife in his left boot. The man turns to me after Mello passes.

"I didn't bring any weapons." I tell him and it's true. I trust Mello enough not to. After all I was of value to him—just a little—so he wouldn't let me die if it's preventable.

The man raises an eyebrow and asks to see what's underneath my jacket. I oblige and stand stiffly as he unnecessarily searches me, calloused fingers running over my thighs. When he's done he lets me pass and I leave the jacket open.

Mello's waiting for me at the top of the stairs so I don't get lost looking for the room we're meeting his guest in. Again he takes the lead and soon we're in a dimly lit room that overlooks the dance floor. There's another guard at the door, watching to make sure we don't hurt his employer.

When I spot the man sitting on one of the large chairs I immediately recognize him. He's the son of the CEO of Yotsuba, the man in charge of project Fall-Out. Glancing over at Mello, I take off my jacket and lay it on a table by the door, the chill air in the room making goose-bumps break out across my arms.

I sit down next to the client, close but not close enough to cause discomfort; Mello lounges on the chair opposite of us. Listening intently as they talk, I soon realize what my job is. Provocation. After Mello gets the proto-type of the FO weapon, I'm given to the client as payment. Fair trade.

I'm not allowed to be harmed but other than that he can have his way with me.

Feeling disgust rise up in me I lower my eyes and lean on Namikawa in an inviting manner. My disgust isn't toward what I'm about to do, or even toward the fact that Mello is permitting another man to use me like this. I'm disgusted at myself, for loving Mello so much to allow this. For being too submissive to fight back.

"Thank you for your business." Mello says - and that's my cue. Leaning over, I capture the raven-haired client's lips in a kiss, allowing him control with a fake moan.

As my fingers undo the buckles on the garter belt and place it on the arm of the chair, all that's running through my mind is: _this isn't Mello._ I wish it was.

Slipping the shorts off over my boots, I look around for any type of lubricant. Mello grins the tiniest bit and hands Namikawa a glass of light amber liquid.

"Trust me he'll love it." Mello says when the raven-haired man gives him a questioning look. Moving so that he had access, I placed my hands down on the coffee table between the two chairs and glance up at Mello.

His expression is disinterested but his eyes hold an emotion I can't place. All I know is that it's making my stomach tighten as butterflies take over my insides. That is why I missed the finger at my entrance until it's pushed in halfway.

I gasp arching my back as my insides seem to catch on fire, biting my lip to hold back a surprised moan. I push back, trying to feel more as my brain fogs over with the addition of two more alcohol covered fingers. He continues to prepare me until he's satisfied and I whimper when the fingers leave.

My nails dig into the wood of the table when he enters me. It's one quick thrust that leaves me gasping in a mix of pain and pleasure as Mello watches.

I can't help but feel dirty as fingers grip my hips; this man thrusts into me but despite my mind's protests my body reacts in the way it wants, pushing back into the thrust while I gasp for air.

I know he's close when his movements become erratic and I gently stop him. Pulling away, I kneel before him and take his member in my mouth. Swirling my tongue around his tip, I wrap a hand around him and pump. He cums not long after, panting as he brushes his hair from his face.

Swallowing as the raven-haired man cups my face and leans down to kiss me, I am shocked when he murmurs a soft 'thank you' before righting his clothes.

When I turn to Mello, he's looking down at his cell phone's screen, shoulders tense. Sighing I take the glass of left-over alcohol and knock it back. Namikawa and his guard leave after Mello is handed the computer chip. Then, it's just me and _my Angel_ in the room.

Snapping the phone shut, Mello walks up to me and slaps me across the face. Before I have time to react though, he presses his lips to mine, not asking for permission as he shoves his tongue down my throat.

I moan, this time for real, and bring my hands to the ties of his pants. He doesn't slap them away and so I take that as a good sign to continue; soon I have him free of his confines. His fingers tangle in my hair as he deepens the kiss and pushes me up and onto the couch.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, he pushes into me completely. My body hums at the familiar feeling. Leaning up as he pulled back I take one of his nipples into my mouth, sucking as he thrusts back in.

Mello sets a rapid pace that has me begging for more. My arms wrap themselves around his neck as he pounds me into the couch and I lick the shell of his ear causing him to shiver. I practically scream when he hits my prostate dead on and he give an evil smile before aiming for it with each entry.

Gasping and panting, I cum between us without being touched and he follows a few thrusts later, filling me with a moan.

"I-I thought you didn't want me." I murmur as he kisses my neck, both of us collapsed on the chair in a boneless heap.

"You looked too sexy not to." He says and I let a smile touch my face.

It wasn't exactly a love confession but it was enough.

…

**So this is my chapter Ladies and Gents. Now move on to MyMello's Matty 'cause his is the icing on this story's cake. **

**Now go! GO! Read on like your life depends on it and leave a review!**


	2. Mello

**Title:** Things I Can't Bear

**Summary: ***insert summary here*

**Disclaimer:** I'm pretty sure that neither myself (MyMello's Matty) or CheshireEffect own DeathNote, it's characters, or the song 'Slept So Long' by KoRn.

**Author's Note:** Well, this is my (MyMello's Matty) tidbit for TICB. I did my best, so hopefully it doesn't suck.

**CREDIT TO CHESHIRE!** Alright, the description written for _Fall-Out_ was done by her, so she gets full credit for that, got it? Good. Now, read onwards!

…

**Mello's POV**

Utilizing the convenience that came from the _12Ghosts Shutdown_, I set the laptop aside, gradually becoming too tired to coherently hack my way into the system I desperately needed to access. I'd been relentlessly trying to tap into this secret development before some other sorry sap beat me to it. I ran a hand through my hair and unzipped my vest. My body instantly became chilled when the leather was peeled from my body. My pants followed and both articles of clothing were tossed aside.

The clock glared with angry red lines carving out the haunting spell: _3:52 AM._

Normally, I could stay up much later without a problem, but I'd been running on practically no sleep for a bit too long for that to be plausible. Thus, I slipped into bed and curled beneath the patch-work quilt that topped my paillasse. I was going commando, sleeping nude, which was nothing new, really.

Almost as an afterthought, I tore down the covers and slapped a hand to my chest, gripping the ironic crucifix that had seemingly become part of me, so natural in the cruel and twisted mockery that was a constant battle of wit between me and the man upstairs. And, it is with the greatest care and the slightest resentment that I pull the rosary off, gather the beaded cords into a pile and place it onto my nightstand.

Then, I take time to stare at the ceiling, my hands slipping behind my head and fingers lacing. I spent the remainder of my waking moments pondering anything and everything I could fathom about my newest endeavor.

Project: Fall-Out.

I wasn't a tech-wiz, but even I knew the potential that the damned chip held. It could shank the masses right where it counted. Right in the technological ass! Fuck the world for being so dependable on some damn machines!

Now, what did I know about Fall-Out? It's a computer chip essentially about the size of a DVD. It has the appearance of one so it can be inserted into a computer E Drive. From said computer, it will eat through the firewalls of the computer it's in, use the computer to access any form of internet (be it wifi, land-line or DSL) and crash the network before implanting a virus into its home computer, frying the circuits, killing the hard drive and rendering it a piece of recyclable parts never to be salvaged. It will, however, eject itself from the computer before the appliance dies.

To be blunt and put it in lame man's terms… It fucks up the CPU, thrusts into it like a Jon to a whore and allocates a buzzing ineptitude, leaving behind a shell of what the contrivance once was.

Of course, the US government was developing it to protect themselves and their secrets from those who tried to hack in and steal information. With the simplicity of an insertion to their own network, Fall-Out would wipe everything clean.

After this happens, the network would have to be rebuilt; all the computers, laptops, phones, pagers, and/or any other electronic devices connected to the crashed network will go down, including the hacker's computer. It's a last resort development, but it would be highly affective since anything and everything would be destroyed, save for the chip.

I want that chip. Desperately. It could be the key to many upcoming exploits that I'm trying for, and even if it were to prove virtually useless_, at least it couldn't be used against me._

…

Eventually, my eyelids grow heavy and slip shut, blanketing my vision and blacking out the world around me, lulling me into a comfortable haze of unconsciousness.

…

I don't sleep long; I never do, but when I wake up, it's later than I expect. I untangle myself from the quilt and pull on yesterday's clothes, too lazy to bother grabbing clean garments; my rosary slips on afterwards.

Once clothed, socks and boots included, missing only my usual vest, I seat myself at the edge of the bed before looking around, taking in the meager and modest surroundings I've come to familiarize with. These walls were what I thought of when addressing the word 'home.' The walls with the decorative paper mostly torn or ripped and shredded; the once-plush carpeting that was now flat and hard; the fogged up windows that were caked with dirt and never washed; and, finally, the _silence_.

A frown tugs at my lips as I listen to the sound of… _nothingness_.

It's strange, really, because I don't live alone. I live with a spunky redhead with dirty habits and an even dirtier level of self-esteem. At least, that's how I initially perceived things, but I'm not about to go for a stroll down memory lane just to relive the horrors that I've faced, including so much love that has been lost or betrayed in regards to myself as a child and adolescent. Though, I will say that I faced a great deal of these tragedies with that same redhead. Matt, a game-loving hacker who just happens to be my own life-support. He's my own source of phenobarbital, if you will; a blissfully high dose of Percocet for the heart, mind, and soul.

…

As soon as I finish my mulling, I regain composure and leave the room to begin my morning routine.

My routine was simple. Bathroom, hair, appearance-check, and a mental pep talk. I plaster on the necessary expression and then I'm off to the kitchen, shirtless, and I make a show of stretching languidly and popping my back as I come to realize that Matt was already up and about. His scent hits me and fills me with a natural high.

He smells of smoke and teak wood, but I pretend not to be intoxicated by the heavenly odor; he's my lackey, my hacker, my cohort, and not much more. No matter how much I value him, I won't allow our relationship status to escalate farther.

I move past him to turn on the coffee pot before getting and heating a piece of cake in the barely-functional microwave – Matt had made the cake recently, and I was impressed, but I didn't tell him that, nor did I offer him any gratitude.

While my cake warmed, I got myself a glass of chocolate milk. "Why are you watching me?" I ask, hovering over the cake I pulled from the aforementioned microwave, not yet bothering to turn and look at the owner of those shielded eyes that never seem to leave me.

"I don't know. I thought you might need me for something," came his response, and his tone catches me off guard… because there is no emotion I can actually decipher at this point.

My repose is to do a 180 and focus directly on him, casting my best glare upon his whole self. "Not right now; go play a game or something." The words may seem common, like something I'd order him to do any other time, but… I had several motives for wanting him out of my hair right now.

And I hoped he didn't know any of them.

…

In the wake of his absence, I consume my chocolate milk and cake, and then prepare and sip at my coffee. At some point, I retrieve my Alienware laptop and get back to work at fishing for things on Fall-Out.

And it takes a little over an hour to find the associate that will undoubtedly lead me right to the chip. Victory is flowing in waves from my brain to my fingertips as I type up a rather coded message with carefully worded phrases that would indicate when and where we would meet, as well as the ambiguous prospects of our upcoming transaction.

…

_Reiji Namikawa._ That was the man I'd contacted, of course, he didn't outwardly supply the name; I had to the most eloquent forms of extortion that my adrenaline-addled brain could concoct on such short notice, easily calling forth small details about him.

He was born on August 3, 1974. His current height was 5'9". His weight was around 141 lbs. Blood type: A. He enjoys a good game of Shogi and detests anyone who could be seen as incompetent or moronic. He is one of eight members of an underground organization that disguise themselves as Yotsuba employees. They are marked as unthreatening, but their leader, Kyosuke Higuchi, has the means of obtaining the chip I want.

Now… if I could just reason with Namikawa… and make a trade of some sort.

…

With a few curt sentences, I cut the connection between Namikawa and myself before bringing up the intel on Fall-Out that I've managed to obtain. As much as I've found, I'm certain there's more to it than this.

I'm almost tempted to pressure Matt into helping me, but I'm not the type to ask or flaunt incapability. For now, I'll manage on my own.

…

Before long, a familiar pattern of footsteps, albeit quiet, catch my attention, though I pretend not to notice as my stripe-shirted cohort wanders back into the kitchen, where I'm stationed with my seventh or eighth cup of coffee; my laptop is still set before myself atop the table, gleaming at me with the same information I'd already read ten times over.

Silently regarding that the redhead is fetching himself a sandwich and a soda from the fridge, I note just how many fruitless hours I've been on my mission.

I spare Matt a glance and look back to the screen, even though I have the entirety of the display committed to memory.

And… there it is again. That strained silence that eats away at the air between myself and Matt. I almost want to bring it up and talk it out, just to get rid of the unbearable awkwardness of it all, but I think better of it and pretend he's not here.

After all, I know perfectly well why things have changed so suddenly, but I have no intentions on bothering to fix it.

About a week ago, things were as normal as can be, with Matt sprawled across the sofa with a handheld while I spat angrily at the some miserable fucker on the other end of the phone that I clenched just a little too tightly.

I'd been angry. Second-rate lackeys were messing everything up and causing twice as much work on my behalf, and in my moment of distress, I… did something… shameful. I snapped the phone in half and threw the broken device as hard as I could; then, I approached Matt.

He'd been absorbed in his game and appeared not to see me coming. I ripped the handheld from his fingers and tossed it aside carelessly before sinking my fingers into this hair. Endorphins coursed through my veins like heroin as I jerked him to meet my angry gaze. I looked into his lenses, and I imagined that he was looking into my eyes, because beneath the surface of those damned goggles, I knew he was calculating something.

I didn't dwell on this long; instead, I kept a firm grip on his hair and slipped my opposing arm around his waist, drawing him nearer and pressing my lips to his in a show of desperation and need. Stress had driven me to this, and I was overwhelmed and pushed to the point of no return.

I released my hold on him in favor of using my own body to pin him to the couch, sliding into his lap and loosely wrapping my arms around his neck. My fingers tangled in a mesh of uncombed red hair and I allowed my lips to brush against his in such a tender and vulnerable way that Matt seemed startled.

Keeping my arms around him, I methodically removed my leather gloves and ran bare fingers along the warm expansion of his neck; my fingers threaded his hair once more and my kisses became more sloppy and needy, landing anywhere my mouth could reach at that moment.

Before I even knew what I was doing, the two of us were almost completely nude and he was participating just as eagerly, returning the kisses and running his own hands along my torso in feverishly light motions.

I soon took note of my aching arousal and forced his legs over my shoulders, preparing to take him dry in the heat of the moment.

In my own mind, this was passion. This was excitement. This was… beautiful.

_Matt_ was beautiful. His cheeks flushed; his skin pale; his skin crawling with eagerness at the stimulation.

I guided my own throbbing erection to his entrance and simply stared at his face.

All anger I'd been feeling dissipated and all that was left was desire.

Of course, it must be said that this was not the first time I'd ever had sex with the redhead. No, far from it, in fact, but… this is the first time that it's ever actually _meant_ something to me.

Still, my hands wind up at his hips and my fingers dig into his flesh, holding him still as I ease my way into that tight, heated cavern that was Matt.

My senses were on fire. The scent of smoke and teak wood fogged my brain and urged me to continue. I sheathed myself completely and immediately set a steady pace of thrusting. And… and… and I just kept going, quickly growing tired of my own tenderness and soon hammering into the redhead with everything in me. My desire grew into lust and the only sound I could hear was my skin sliding and smacking against his. I was euphoric, grabbing here, pinching there, and even bringing my mouth back to his for a few kisses and spontaneous love-bites.

After what seemed like a small eternity, my insides tightened and cum was drained from my dick like milk from dairy cow's teats.

And, as can be expected, I remained stationary, sweating and panting, basking in the post-coital bliss that left me feeling content and almost happy… until a sound reached my ears.

_Whimpering_.

No, not _just_ whimpering… _Matt's_ whimpering.

I removed myself and looked at the aftermath. Sure enough, Matt was slumped against the couch; blood pooled around his lower half and streamed from a few places where I had bit and scratched a little too hard; he was still quite erect, his little soldier saluting for all it was worth with a bit of precum just starting to slip; and his face… -Oh, dear God, his face! His cheeks were red; his lips were swollen; and his goggles were fogged with droplets of water starting to leak.

He was crying, and it was all my fault.

This is exactly why I stopped allowing myself to get too close to Matt. When I kept my distance and ordered him around, or when we romped and had a good fuck, that was fine, but when real emotions got in the way, one of us always got hurt.

And, after that realization, I clothed myself, told him to clean up the mess we'd made, and left. I didn't have anywhere in particular that I had to be, but I wanted to get away from everything. Away from the pain I'd seen in his expression and away from the guilt that had hemorrhaged into my core. Away from anything that could harm me to that degree.

Away from Matt.

When I'd left, I went to a local bar on the bad side of town. And I drank the night away. It was in my drunken stupor that I overheard a conversation withholding information that seemed to sober me in an instant.

It was a conversation between two people, whom I later investigated and learned to be _Shingo Mido_ and _Eiichi Takahashi_, two VPs of Yotsuba, both of which were idly chatting about _Fall-Out_, thus my requirement for the chip was generated.

…

But that was all a week ago, and since then, I'd come a long way, treating Matt with the cold shoulder and focusing more on acquiring that chip.

In all honesty, my innate attention to the goal of obtaining the chip, while necessarily prominent, was probably my subconscious method of avoiding Matt. Because, truth be told and curiosity be damned, I was afraid of hurting him again.

It's strange really, but I hold Matt's susceptibility at a double-standard. I have no problem in attacking him with violence or angry words. I don't even have a problem with allowing others to borrow his body. Because none of the emotion into either of those bits of horror are factual. But, if I were to allow myself to love him for real, and I were to hurt him after such a confession, then the pain would never go away; it would be baited and trained and tormented until it became something ugly and unwarranted. Love, in regards to myself, could only morph into regret and hatred; this is something I've learned the hard way.

And yet, I am selfish. I know of Matt's loyalty and allow him to care for me… even though I will never allow myself to return the sentiment. It's dirty and it's wrong, but for both our sakes, I allow it.

…

All that jargon and bullshit aside, I'm still in the kitchen; my coffee cup has become drained of the rich Columbian nectar, and Matt leans in for what I presume is meant to be a kiss. Of course, I turn my head and avoid it before fixing my coldest glare on him.

And, in that brief moment, I see something akin to recognition flash behind his goggled eyes, though I think nothing of it. A small curiosity settles over me, and I wonder if he noticed the content on my laptop's screen, but of course, I am unworried; if he were to find out what I was up to, and he knew anything on the subject, it would only be beneficial to me.

Matt leaves me to do whatever it is that he does when he's not obliging my wishes.

In the meantime, I log onto a networking site under an assumed name, sending a last message to Namikawa, regarding specifics of our upcoming deal.

…

Later, with my laptop put away (hidden deep within the recesses of a false panel behind the pantry) and myself donning a tight black silken top along with my previously adorned attire, I find my way to Matt's room.

I easily spot the redhead lounging comfortably; I take the initiative and shove his laptop away from him before grasping his wrist, pinning him to the bed and kissing him frantically, though I am unsure if the kiss is an indulgence for myself or a form of apology to Matt for what I was about to ask of him.

My own tongue seeks and is granted entrance into his sinfully inviting mouth, and I find myself giving in, melting into these feelings that I tried so hard to bury. My kisses and light touches become slightly more impatient, and this would have continued if he hadn't released a soft moan.

That pleasured sound pulled me from my instinctual actions, and I forced myself up and away from him, taking time to slow my breathing and calm myself into stoicism. I stared down at him with as much emotion as a blank Microsoft document, assessing the little bit of hope in his eyes.

Suddenly, I don't want to ask this of him. I don't want to trade his body to Namikawa for a damn program that may or may not prove useful. I want Matt all to myself. I want to be the one to hold and to please him; to make him moan and scream and howl with delight. I want to violate his soul with my ugly intentions, and I want to watch him crumble into the depths of decay with me.

I want him to be mine, and mine alone, but my judgment was blurred by emotions. And right now, I couldn't let mawkishness get in the way of what I knew was best.

Needing to collect my thoughts and coax myself into a particular line of thinking, I make a bold and brash show of exiting the room; then I exit the apartment complex altogether. The kiss was still tingling on my lips, taunting the feelings that I wished were nonexistent.

…

My time away from the apartment turns into a short journey to the Starffin Plexicombs, which is naught but a motel with a seedy reputation. It would kill Matt to know how often I come here, but he probably already knows. He's not as stupid as I pretend him to be, and he can undoubtedly smell the scent of cheap perfume and cheaper liquor on me afterwards.

But it's not something I want to stop. The physical acts that I commit with downtown hookers often helps me release the pent-up aggression that would otherwise be concentrated solely on Matt. At least, this way, I'm not hurting him directly.

Guilt is the only burden that really results from sleeping around. Guilt because I truly love my redhead. And shame… because I can't bear to have him and hurt him. Sure, he'd be mine if I only asked, and he'd ask for nothing in return… because that's just how he is; he was brought into this world by a vindication of God's own cruel form of justice, or so I choose to believe.

And so… it is with Matt on my mind that I find the most attractive slut in Starffin Plexicombs and proceed to rob her of her dignity. I am brutal on her, tearing her apart with every movement, not bothering with soft caresses or kisses. I aim to hurt her, to make her bleed, and to damn her for not being the one person I wish she was. By the time I'm done, she's barely alive; her breath is shallow and she's gagged because I could no longer tolerate her loud and girly voice (because it was not Matt's voice… and his voice is the only one I wanted to hear); she's a mess, but I toss a wad of cash at her and just walk out.

I am unsatisfied, but that's not the point. The watch on my wrist is ticking, and life will not halt for my dramatic affairs.

…

I return to the complex around twelve or so.

"I need you to do something for me Matty," I whisper to him, and there is a strange ache in my chest as I prepare to ask this of him.

I have to fight back a small smile when he pulls his goggles down and rubs the sleep out of his eyes; the goggles are back in place a little too quick for my liking, but I don't comment.

I don't deserve to see those beautiful eyes.

Matt looks at me questioningly, and I wordlessly roam over to the armoire, retrieve an outfit to my liking, and toss it onto the bed.

"Get dressed and meet me at _Pulse_ when you're ready," I tell him, making an exit once more.

No, I didn't bother giving him the details as to why he was to wear the slutty clothes or why I wanted him to show up at the club, but… I knew he'd listen to me, like a well-trained mutt to a master.

I left again, selecting a black softail as my choice of transportation and gearing up to drive to Pulse; the engine revved and the vibrations jolted me with excitement, as they always did.

Along the way, I pulled over, making a pit stop. I retrieved my cellphone and contacted Namikawa one last time, just to confirm the deal.

"You got what I want?" I ask, not daring to directly mention the chip in case the line had been crossed or tapped. I listen for a confirmation before continuing. "Alright. Your payment will be quite live and willing. Don't break it, and it's yours, but you can't keep it." There is silence, and I can almost sense that he wants to protest, but I end the call before he can complain.

The deal had been made, and I could only hope that things went as planned. If not, there'd be hell to pay.

…

I arrive and kill the engine of my beloved motorcycle. Shortly after, Matt pulls up and parks the car. When he gets out, I can't help noticing just how _sexy_ he is capable of looking.

My gaze on him is a predatory one, but I am able to refrain from drooling. "Perfect," I announce. "There's someone I'm meeting. He has something I want, and you have something he wants. Just keep him happy so I can complete the deal." With that, I walk into the club with Matt at my heels.

The music is booming; the bodies are moshing; alcohol and hemp are burning holes into the sweat-laced atmosphere. Just like any other Americanized club.

We make our way through the throng of people, and I rove an intricate path until we come across a metal staircase. Together, we ascend, reaching the height of the building and walking through a set of French doors, finding ourselves on a stone balcony, lined in various statuettes, most of which were beginning to deteriorate.

A large man, a bouncer perhaps, halted myself and Matt, wanting to do a weapons-check to ensure the safety of the man I was to do business with. I was wearing my best poker face as I revealed my revolver, hiding the fact that I had a knife sheathed in my left boot.

"I didn't bring any weapons," I heard Matt say, pretending not to be interested and, instead, walking across the threshold to an adjourned door. Just beyond this point was Namikawa, as well as Fall-Out.

I hoped there would be no surprises waiting.

Matt joins me once more, presumably passing his inspection, and we enter that door, winding up in a room that overlooks the dancefloor.

The hustle and bustle and general noise from the ravers is muffled a great deal by walls that were thick and nearly soundproof.

Another guard is stationed nearby, but I ignore him; he's just doing his job, so I overlook him.

…

Namikawa sits in a luxurious leather chair. Upon seeing him, Matt removes his jacket and reveals the extent of his purpose.

_Seduction._

I splay myself out on a nearby chair and watch Matt sit next to Namikawa.

"So, this is it?" Namikawa asks skeptically, looking over Matt.

My eyes narrow on their own accord, and I give a curt nod. "Trust me; he's more than worth it."

The dark-haired man nods slowly, his eyes trained on Matt's sensual form. "Fine. There's a metal case in the back; the chip in it contains the FO weapon. You can have it; the price is your redhead."

I nod. "Yes, we've discussed this." I feign annoyance, using the ruse to cover up the sour feelings that were beginning to boil within myself. "Just don't harm him. I don't want a single scratch or bruise on him."

"But, I can play with him?" The final question before the transaction commences and is made a reality.

Another nod is my only response; I don't trust my voice not to betray my desired image.

…

"Thank you for your business," I say in my most monotone voice. Then, I watch intently as Matt initiates a kiss, and my heart feels like it's being pierced a thousand times, but I'd never let anyone know that. I'm not weak; I'm much too proud. Things are too fucked up.

I hear a moan escape Matt, and I'm almost positive it's fake, but… it still hurts to hear.

I barely have time to finally take in Matt's lithe frame in that outfit before he begins to bare his lower half.

Things already appear to be rather heated, and so I offer a knowing grin and gesture to a glass of alcohol. "Trust me he'll love it." My words come off as sounding crueler than I'd hoped, but all the same, I had good intentions for this; I wanted Matt to be in as little discomfort as possible, even if I didn't bother to provide a proper lubricant.

I watch Matt position himself, his contact-coated eyes seeming to look through my soul, seeking some form of justice I could not provide. Seeking the love that I could not give. Seeking something that I am also seeking but will never have.

Still, all I can really think about while staring into those pained eyes is, that I'm glad he's wearing the contacts.

Stupid, maybe, but for me… at least someone else isn't getting to see the true beauty of his eyes. The contacts, while exotic and exciting, mutes the glory and depth inside, and somehow, it makes things seem less harsh, even if only on my behalf.

My expression was steeled as I watched Namikawa dip his alcohol-laden fingers into Matt in order to prepare him, and I try not to notice Matt's reciprocation to what was going on.

Thank goodness, the act doesn't last long; Namikawa forces himself into Matt, and I watch. For the love of God… I actually watch, if only to make sure that no harm is done.

On the outside, I'm expressionless, but on the inside, I'm dying; this is killing me. I have no desire for this. I'm almost ready to tell Namikawa to keep FO for himself if it might mean to put a stop to this heinous act, but… no. Matt's already gone through so much for me. Just a little more. It's almost over.

_Please_, God, end this now. Give me Matt back.

Before long, both Namikawa and Matt are a boneless heap of breathless bodies, coated in light sheens of sweat and seeking the ultimate release.

Thankfully, Matt stops the current sexual act and kneels before the clientele. A good blow sends Namikawa over the edge and Matt swallows.

My chest tightens and my fists clench angrily as the bastard _thanks_ Matt and offers a chaste kiss.

I'm angry… because there was a hint of kindness behind that gesture, and, well… - I feel like it's Prom night, and everyone's porkin' my date. I'm pissed. Matt's mine. And, I swear on my life that this is the last time I'm ever going to use my precious little redhead as a bargaining chip.

Then again, I said the same thing_ last time, _didn't I?

I retrieve my cellphone and go through the call log, deleting everything pertaining to Namikawa since the deal was just about complete. In the meanwhile, the clientele fixes his clothes and Matt drinks the shot of alcohol that remained in the glass.

Namikawa and his goons make a quiet exit afterward, leaving me, Matt, and the case containing Fall-Out.

Just me and Matt. Thus, all is right with the world, right? Isn't this how it's supposed to be?

I snap the phone shut and toss it aside before walking up to Matt and back-handing him across the face. Then I press my lips to his and devour the sweetness that is Matt.

I hear his moan, and my own loins stir to life. Matt hands reach the front of my pants, and I allow it, wanting to prove something to Matt and myself, but not quite sure how to.

I was never good with words when I needed to be. Emotions controlled my actions more than they should have. And actions always spoke louder than words anyway. Thus, I let this continue. He released my hardening member and I slipped my fingers into that amazingly silky hair. Our mouths mash into each other hungrily, and I guide him onto the couch.

His legs encircle my waist, and I'm buried inside him with little effort. He cries out in an early show of ecstasy and I gasp at just how tight he still is. His mouth finds and teases one of my nipples and I continue my erratic display of thrusting, coaxing pleasured cries from both our mouths, creating a chorus worthy of a church sermon.

In and out, I take a dive, claiming a little more of him with each jerk of my hips; our pace quickens, and I feel ready to burst. His arms are around me, and I'm just focusing on locating that sweet spot I know all too well.

His tongue is hot and wet and finds my ear, and I fail to suppress the shudder of enchantment that courses through me.

Alas I find my target, earning a belted scream that poured from his lungs and into my ears. That is all the encouragement I need to continue, allowing a devilish grin before using my own pulsing need to jack-hammer into that bundle of nerves that is undoubtedly blinding Matt with inclination.

He cums first, as he usually does, and I'm not far behind, riding out our dual-orgasms with a low, throaty moan.

"I-I thought you didn't want me," he whispers, and I shower his neck and jawline with appreciative kisses, knowing that he needed the comfort and I needed anything I could get from it.

"You looked too sexy not to," I respond, unwilling to be honest with him and myself. I look into his eyes, and he's smiling. And I smile too.

And, for that moment, I am filled with more happiness than I'd had in a long time. I wished I'd have removed his contacts first; I wish I'd gotten to see the real beauty within his eyes; I wish I'd never used him in such ways; I wished…

I wish I could confess to him… that my love for him will forever run deeper than anything he could ever imagine. My heart is a dark strip of velvet, lined with despair and dotted with redemption. And, somewhere in there is a small box. And in that box is memory. And that memory is precious and deceitful. That memory… is of two little boys, both needing comfort, and neither quite knowing how to get it.

That memory, is something I can't bear to surface for more than a few moments, lest my will be shattered and broken.

And, for Matt, my redhead and secret obsession, I must be strong. I must be unnerved. I must be the whole world, full of rights, wrongs, and promises.

For Matt, I will forever be this. I'll forever be _his_… even if I can't allow him to be mine.

_**END**_

…

**And, okay, I had no idea where I was going with this, but I did my best, relying on a combination of whimsy and what Cheshire had already written, so… try not to hate it! I worked really hard on this and am relatively pleased with the outcome. *grin***


End file.
